I killed him
by AllzStar
Summary: When Johnny killed Bob, we only heard Pony's side of the story. How was Johnny feeling when he killed the Soc? Find out in this short but creative new look on the Outsiders. It's actually my unitend project for school. ] Please R&R!


**I KILLED HIM**

**By AllzStar**

**[Disclaimer: I don't own the Outsiders.**

**JOHNNY'S POV**

A cold hand on my arm made me jump out of my skin. I reached for my switch blade automatically, but then I realized that it was only Ponyboy. He had tears bubbling in his wide, green eyes and a big red mark on his cheek.

"C'mon, Johnny," he sobbed, "we're running away."

I asked no questions. I jumped up and we ran. I didn't know where or why, but we just ran a few blocks until I felt like my chest was going to explode.

Ponyboy was shaking like a leaf and tears were streaming down his face and neck. That red mark was still there. "Pony," I said slowly, "just relax, man. We'll be alright. You're scaring me. What's the matter?"

Pony fished his lighter out of his pocket. "You got a cig Johnny? I'm scared, man," he gasped between sobs.

"Sure, man," I said, handing him a weed. "What happened to you?"

Pony drew a quivering breath. "Darry hit me. I swear, we used to get along just fine till mom and dad died; but now he just can't stand me."

I felt my eyes go wide. Pony took a long drag on his cigarette and tried to stop the flow of tears with his bare arm. He must be freezing to death, I thought. I shuddered. "I think I like it better when my old man's hittin' me. At least then he knows I'm there," I explained softly.

Pony just looked miserable. "Come on, let's just walk to the park and back," he said, his voice shaking slightly, "Maybe I'll be cooled off enough to go home."

"Okay," I said, putting my arm across his shoulders in an attempt to keep him warm, "okay."

The park was deserted as it was two-thirty in the morning. It had a playground and a small wading pool for the little kids; it was empty now for the fall. A big fountain was in the middle of the park, the water bubbling vivaciously over the top and splashing into the pool at the bottom. I vaguely remembered the summer that the gang and I went swimming in it to cool off and nearly got jailed…

"Johnny!" Ponyboy was calling to me. "Hurry up!" I realized I had been staring at the fountain, lost in my own little world again. I hurried to catch up with Ponyboy. He had already climbed up onto the small jungle gym and perched on top of it by the time I reached its base. The metal poles were cold against my bare hands and I winced. They were actually freezing. You know how metal gets.

"Pony, can I borrow your lighter? I'm gonna have a smoke." I rubbed my hands together to warm them up.

"Yeah, here," Pony replied, pulling his lighter out of his jeans' pocket. He had stopped crying now, and the mark where Darry had slapped him was beginning to fade. He was lucky, though. I got beaten everyday by my drunken father. At least Darry and Soda didn't drink. They loved him a lot, too. I was too tired to admit that I was being unfair. Ponyboy wasn't used to being banged around; I mean, no one in his family was rough enough to hit him. I just lit my cigarette and have the Zippo back to Pony. I took a drag on my weed. That was when I noticed headlights coming toward us. I felt cold, hard panic rise in my throat. I knew that blue mustang all too well.

"Oh, no," Ponyboy moaned, "Look who's coming."

I shrank back into my jeans jacket and tried to stifle a scream of terror. "I bet they're looking for us," I muttered grimly, fear spreading through every inch of me in two seconds flat.

The mustang pulled up beside the jungle gym and Randy and Bob got out, followed by four other Socs, all drunk like a bastard. I felt my eyes go round as I watched the moonlight glint off Bob's three heavy rings. My hand flew to my back pocket.

"Well, well, well," Bob mocked unevenly as he stumbled towards us, "Aren't these the greasers who uh,"-he hiccupped-"tried to pick up our women?"

I tried to build up the little nerve I had. "You guys are out of your territory, now," I managed, "You guys had better watch it." Damn. My voice broke.

"Nup, pal, you'd better watch it," Randy hissed, and proceeded to cuss us out. I felt my hand tremble as I slowly reached into my back pocket. Pony and I exchanged glances before dropping down from the jungle gym. Pony looked scared out of his mind and I barely had the excuse to look brave.

"You know what greasers are?" Bob asked, "White trash with long, _greasy _hair." My mouth dropped open. That was one of the worst insults that had ever been thrown at me. I winced as if I'd been belted.

Ponyboy was trembling with rage. "You know what a Soc is?" he demanded darkly.

Randy smirked. "What?"

"White trash with mustangs and madras." And he spat at them.

It all happened too fast. One of Bob's friends caught my arm before I could run very far and flung me to the wet, squishy grass. I gasped as I got a wet shock and a mouthful of dirt. I could hear Ponyboy screaming an thought in panic: What are they doing to him? I started to get up but the Soc kicked me hard in the ribs. I pretended to crumple up like a moron so maybe they'd leave me alone. It worked; I heard their footsteps squish away. I looked up to see what was happening to Ponyboy. All I saw was his feet flailing in the air and Bob's hands wrapped around his neck, pushing his head backwards into the fountain.

I'd never been so mad in all of my pathetic life. Without thinking, I reached into my back pocket, pulled out my switch and flicked it open. I was trembling as I inched towards the fountain, holding my blade out and away from my body like Tim Shepherd did. I crept up right behind Bob. "Leave him alone, you sonuvabitch!" I shouted.

He whipped around too fast and staggered forward, reaching out to grab me. "NO!" I screamed, and reacting on instinct, I plunged my knife right into Bob's abdomen.

He let out a cry, I gasped, and then he slowly fell to the ground, shriveling into a bloody mess at my feet. I stared at the body, horrified at what I had done. Blood was pouring from the wound like water from a tap. I heard running feet and knew the Socs were fleeing the scene.

"No…" I groaned, "Please, no…" I dropped to my knees. He was dead. Bob, the handsome Soc, Cherry's boyfriend, was dead. And I had killed him. The thought made me wretch. Really, I did. I had Bob's blood all over my hands and jacket and my knife was read to the hilt. This could not be happening. This could not be happening. Please don't let this be happening…

I crawled over to the fountain and pulled Ponyboy's limp body out of the water. He lay on the pavement, almost as still as Bob. A horrible thought crossed my mind. Not him, too…

I placed my fingers at his throat and got a racing pulse. I breathed a shaky sigh of relief. His chest was moving ever so slightly. At least Ponyboy was alright.

Shock hit me hard and sudden. I felt my face drain of color and my hands were shaking like a bastard. I was staring at my knife, still trying to convince myself that this was not happening. My head swam and I felt like I was going to hurl. I turned my head away from my body in case I did, but I had to snap it back. If I looked that way, I would see Bob's dead body. If I looked the other way, I'd see an unconscious Ponyboy. So I tried to keep it down as best as I could.

Bob's body lay doubled-up and still in the moonlight a couple of feet away from me. It haunted me. I couldn't stand it. My hands were like wet ice; they were cold and clammy and still shaking. Oh, God, I'm going to hurl.

Suddenly I heard a groan and realized that it was Ponyboy coming to. I didn't look at him, though. I couldn't. My eyes were fixed on my bloody knife. I saw Ponyboy sit up out of the corner of my eye and stare at me, staring at the knife.

"I killed him," I told him in a squeaky voice, "I killed that boy. I-I killed h-him." I looked at my friend, knowing my face was as white as it felt and my eyes were huge. Ponyboy went pale. He glanced at Bob's body, a bloody heap of flesh and clothing, and turned an eerie whitish green color.

"Johnny," he said frantically, "I think I'm gonna be sick!"

"Go ahead, man. I ain't gonna look at you." I muttered. I heard him vomiting and my stomach turned to ice. I fought back my own bile, hoping that I wouldn't be sick, too. I heard whimpering. "Are you okay, Ponyboy?"

"Y-you r-really d-did k-k-kill him, h-huh, J-Johnny?" came his shaky response.

I knelt in the wet grass, feeling the water from the fountain soak into my jeans and the mud staining them, but I didn't care. I began cleaning my knife in the grass. "Yeah," I said, my voice trembling slightly, "I had to, I mean, they was drowning you, Pony, I mean they…might have killed you…and then they were gonna deal with me once you were dead and I got so scared…I didn't know what to do, y'know? I mean, they was gonna beat me up…"

"Like they did before?"

I held my breath, the let out a quivering sigh. "Yeah. Just like they did before."

"Johnny!" Ponyboy suddenly screamed, "What're we gonna do? They put you in the electric chair for killing people!"

"Pony! Get a hold of yourself, will ya? You're gonna wake up the entire neighborhood and then we'll only get caught faster!" Oops. Wrong thing to say.

"Caught f-faster? Johnny, I'm gonna get sent away! I'll never see Soda or Darry or anyone for ever!" Pony shrieked. I lifted him by his damp sweatshirt and set him on his feet. Then I grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

"Pony, knock it off!" he hissed. I almost slapped him.

He shook himself loose and took a big gulp of air. "Okay," he said softly, "I'm okay now." He was still trembling, but at least he'd stopped screaming; though he looked like he was about to hit the floor. Or just start bawling.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," I said, trying to sound soothing.

He stared at me. "How? Where? Johnny, where are you going to go? We're in such big trouble…"

"_I _am in trouble. _You _didn't do anything, Pony. You won't get in no trouble."

"Yes I will! We'll be separated; Darry me and Soda! And you'll get the electric chair and maybe life in prison and our gang will never be the same and—"

"Ponyboy! Get a hold of yourself now!" I shook him again. He opened his mouth but shut it quickly. I drew in a long, surprisingly even breath. I realized I had quit trembling. "Dallas," I whispered, "Dally will get us outta here. And we'll need a gun, some money…a plan. Dally should have all of those."

"Where can we find him?"

"I think at Buck Merrill's. Darry said there was a party there tonight."

Ponyboy sighed. "Let's hurry. The fuzz will be here soon."

"Okay," I said. I flipped my knife shut and shoved it into my back pocket.

Buck answered the door when we knocked. He glared down at us; a beer can in one hand, a cigarette in the other. "Whatdya want?" he demanded in a rough voice. I shuddered.

"Dallas," I panted, "We gotta see Dallas Winston."

Buck grimaced. "He's busy."

"Just tell him it's Ponyboy and Johnny, man, he'll come!" I pressed. When Buck didn't move I added, "Come on!"

Buck shrugged and strolled off. I remember Dally saying that the only way to get something out of Buck was to bully him. That's probably why Dallas go so much out of him.

Dally appeared in the doorway, clad only in a pair of low-cut blue jeans. He seemed pretty sober. I'd been worried about that. If Dally was drunk and/or in a dangerous mood, we should have stayed clear of him. It surprised me. His being sober I mean…I bet he hadn't been there very long.

"Alright, kids, whatdya need me for?" he asked almost cheerfully as he leaned in the doorway.

"Johnny killed a Soc," Ponyboy blurted before I could say anything. I could tell he was crying now.

Dally didn't even bat an eye. He just smiled down at me. "Good for you."

"We figgered you could get us out if anyone could," I explained, "I'm sorry we got you away from this party and all, but I just didn't know what to to…"

"It's okay; I was just getting some sleep. Tim and I got into a fight and I cracked a few ribs." Dally winced, rubbing his side. "Ol' Tim sure can pack a punch. He won't be able to see out of one eye for a week." He smiled roguishly. "Come in here, we'll see what we can do about this mess." Then he took a good look at us. "Ponyboy, are you wet?"

"Y-y-y-e-e-s-s-s-s," he replied through chattering teeth.

"Glory hallelujah!" Dally exclaimed, "You'll die of pneumonia 'fore the cops ever get ya! Get in here." He pulled us inside and slammed the door.

He led us up to an empty bedroom. I was vaguely aware of what was happening anymore. I heard Dally order Ponyboy to take off his wet sweatshirt, but it was as if it was from a great distance.

All of a sudden I was sitting on the floor beside the bed, where Pony sat, shaking, with a towel around his shoulders. Then I had a roll of money and a gun in my hand, and that woke me up pretty quick. "What the…"

"Don't point the thing at me, Johnny, it's loaded, come on." Dally closed a window and tossed a shirt at Ponyboy that was at least five sizes too big for him. "Here, put this on. It's a little big, but it's dry."

Pony obeyed quickly.

"Look, I ain't itching to be the one to tell your big brother Darry and get my head kicked in," Dally was saying. I barely heard it.

Then don't tell him!" Pony cried desperately.

I started to shake again. My head was swimming and my stomach churned. More delayed shock, probably. The next thing I knew Dallas was giving us directions to somewhere. I tried to listen, but I couldn't. It wasn't till Dally handed me a piece of paper that I realized he had been talking to me. My head seemed fuzzy.

"…here are the directions to the church, Johnnycake," Dally was saying. "Man, I thought New York was the only place I'd end up in a murder wrap. Jesus Christ."

Murder? I made a funny noise at the back of my throat and tried to hold back tears.

Suddenly we were outside again. "Now git goin'!" Dally said, messing up my hair.

"Sure Dal. Thanks," said Ponyboy.

Then we tore off into the night.


End file.
